Rock Chick Revolution

Chapter Four Wash Him Away

Rock Chick Rewind

Two hours later…

There was a banging on my door.

My eyes fluttered open and I focused on the clock.

It was twelve seventeen.

I smiled to myself. I’d left my Lelo in the nightstand before going to sleep. This was not because, after that night, I didn’t need some form of relaxation.

It was that I was hoping Ren would be the source of that relaxation, as these days he always was. He’d texted me earlier saying he had a late meet, but was hoping, if it didn’t go too late, that he’d come to my house and spend the night.

It was late, but as ever with Ren and me (and we both knew it), no late was too late.

I threw the covers off, got out of bed and moved out of my bedroom.

I was wearing a sexy sapphire blue nightie with deep edges of black lace.

Everyone now knew Indy’s former secret (a secret that was leaked by Indy herself during a Girls Night Out; it wasn’t me who shared, swear) and that was that she always wore sexy underwear. This was because her grandma bought her some on her sixteenth birthday and told her every woman should have that particular secret. Indy took this to heart and lived it from that day forward.

Unfortunately, seeing as he’s my brother, I also knew that Lee very much appreciated this now-not-so-secret.

As in a lot.

I couldn’t say I very much appreciated knowing this about my brother. I could say it wasn’t much of a surprise. I’d been underwear shopping with Indy, and often. She had good taste. And Lee was all man (of the Ren variety) so it wasn’t a big leap that he’d get off on something like that.

What everyone didn’t know was that because I’d known Indy since I was born (which meant I knew Grandma Ellen since I was born, and Grandma Ellen was like a grandma to me too), she gave me the same life lesson.

I just took it further. I wore sexy underwear, no exceptions, no holds barred. I had never owned a pair of granny panties from age sixteen onward.

And I never would.

I also never slept in anything unsexy unless I didn’t sleep in anything (and that was the sexiest of all).

I’d learned that Ren was turned on not only by the tactile but also the visual. He liked watching me go down on him. He liked watching me ride him. He liked watching my face as he rode me. He also liked my nighties. The look and feel.

And I knew he’d learned if he showed late at my place he was in for a treat, because over the last couple of months I’d given him a lingerie cornucopia of delights that he showed his appreciation for in a variety of righteous ways.

And tonight’s nightie was actually new. I bought it just for him.

Though I’d never tell him that.

I checked the peephole just to be certain and saw Ren again gazing down the hall. Since there was nothing there but carpeted hall and doors, I wondered what fascinated him about that.

Then wondering got in the way of opening the door and getting to Ren so I quit doing that, and I unlocked and opened the door.

He heard the locks so he was looking at me when I did.

I was lamenting the fact that when we had the chance to hook up, he usually had time to get home and change. That meant I didn’t get him in suits very often. Like now, he was wearing a lightweight white shirt, sleeves rolled up, and faded jeans.

It wasn’t a suit I could peel off him, but those everyday items of apparel looked better on him than any other man could pull off, so I wasn’t quibbling.

I tipped my head back, smiled at him, leaned in and fisted a hand in his shirt. Then I pulled him in my apartment.

He kicked the door closed as I moved into him, my hand sliding up, my mouth aiming for his.

But he surprised me by putting a hand to my waist and holding on there even as he set me slightly back. He twisted and flipped the light switch.

I blinked at the sudden brightness and caught his eyes.

Then I smiled.

Yeah. Ren was visual. Whatever he had planned, he wanted to watch. And to be able to watch, he had to see.

It was always good, but I was thinking tonight was going to be better.

I leaned in and got up on my toes.

When my mouth was almost on his, Ren’s head moved back an inch and his other hand curled firm at the side of my neck, holding me warm but steadily away from him.

What the fuck?

“Zano—”

“That night,” he said, his eyes looking into mine in a weird way that felt intense and probing. “What were you doin’ at Club?”

My head gave a little confused shake and I asked, “What?”

“That night I apologized,” he gave me more info and I, unusually belatedly, sensed the danger and my body stiffened. His hand at my waist wrapped around it to hold me to him as his fingers at my neck dug in as he kept talking. “What were you doin’ at Club?”

“Why are you asking this?” I queried.

“Why aren’t you answering?” he returned.

My brows drew together. “Because it’s none of your business.”

He ignored that and tried a different tactic.

“Were you with a man?”

“No.”

“A friend?”

“No, Zano,” I snapped. “Why does it matter?”

“’Cause you weren’t with anybody. You stayed a few minutes after I left you, took off to the bathrooms and never came back. I know. I watched for you.”

He watched for me.

Nice.

“But you disappeared,” he finished.

“So?”

“The exit’s at the front,” he informed me.

“So?”

“That means you exited out back.”

“Jeez, Zano!” I clipped, pulling out of his hold, taking a step back and putting my hands on my hips. “What’s with the interrogation? Who cares how I exited Club two months ago?”

He ignored my question—and my outburst—and kept at me.

“A few minutes after you took off toward the bathroom, some guy shot outta that hall lookin’ freaked, as well as clearly so stoked on blow it’s a wonder his heart didn’t explode. You know that guy?”

“I know I’m not a big fan of being woken up in the middle of the night and getting treated to random twenty questions about a night that happened months ago.”

“Just sayin’, babe, you’ll get a very not random twenty questions if Benito Valenzuela decides to make a meal outta you.”

I clamped my mouth shut.

Oh shit.

That was the dealer who had his hooks into Garden Girl’s brother.

“Yeah,” he whispered, examining my face carefully. “Though, if Valenzuela gets more interested in you, you might not be available for twenty questions.”

Okay, somehow Ren had cottoned on to my activities, and I knew this was definitely not good. He might not be a member of the Hot Bunch, but he was a full-blooded Italian hot guy member of a crime family. So I was thinking his rabid alpha behavior either equaled or rivaled any member of the Hot Bunch, including Luke, who, in my opinion, was totally OTT.

And the Hot Bunch guys had a definite aversion to the women in their lives being around danger.

“How do you know this shit?” I asked quietly.

“Dom gets around,” Ren answered immediately. “Had a meeting with him tonight. He doesn’t know about us, but we share an acquaintance with your brothers. Both of them. I think you get why, without me explaining, we tend to keep our eye on their activities. And tonight, in passing, Dom says that he’s heard you’re getting around.”

Fuck.

Not good.

Ren kept talking.

“He thinks you’re doin’ shit for Lee. He heard a coupla nights ago you were with Darius Tucker in one of the bars Valenzuela’s girls work. Says he also heard Tucker was makin’ some enquiries about some new talent Valenzuela has for sale. Sweet piece. Catholic schoolgirl type.”

Crap.

Again not good.

Ren didn’t know a little. He knew a lot.

He leaned slightly into me, his eyes no less intent or probing. “The real kind of Catholic schoolgirl type. In other words, somehow her shit got fucked, and this is not an unusual situation for Lee Nightingale to sink his teeth into. Problem is, even Valenzuela thinks Lee swung you out there, and this guy is a lunatic. Anyone else, even a whiff Lee’s involved, they steer clear. This guy, he’s likin’ that your piece is on the chess board. Thinks it’s interesting. Wants to keep his eye on that shit, which means he wants to keep an eye on you.”

I kept my mouth shut, but mentally added a phone call to Darius to discuss this unpleasant news first thing in the morning.

Ren kept going.

“Dom told me and Vito. Vito is not about swingin’ women’s asses out there. He knows you, likes you, and if he gets in the mood to blow, he blows. So it’s late and he still doesn’t hesitate pickin’ up the phone and tearin’ your brother a new asshole. Problem is, Lee has no clue what the fuck he’s talkin’ about.”

This also wasn’t good.

“Figure, though,” Ren went on. “He intends to find out.”

That was a definite.

“I—” I began.

“What were you doin’ at Club, Ally?”

“I was—”

“And what the fuck were you doin’ in a bar that Valenzuela works with Darius fuckin’ Tucker?”

I felt my back snap straight. “Darius is a friend.”

“Darius was a friend, he wouldn’t be sittin’ with you in that bar havin’ a chat. He’d be haulin’ your ass out of that bar and laying into it to get your head sorted for bein’ in that bar in the first fuckin’ place.”

Oh no.

He didn’t say that.

“What the fuck are you into?” he bit out.

“None of your business,” I snapped.

“Right.” He leaned back. “Was gonna have this discussion with you when I wasn’t pissed at you, but it needs to be said, and now’s a fuckin’ brilliant time to say it,” he started in a way that I didn’t find very promising.

Then he kept going.

“I’m thinkin’ the nature of our relationship is movin’ beyond casual. I’m thinkin’ it’s gettin’ into the non-casual zone, seein’ as we spend practically every night together, even if you roll into my house at three thirty in the morning after a shift at Brother’s. This suggests to me that we can’t get enough of each other, and since you haul your ass to my place most of the time, you can’t deny that.”

This was true. I couldn’t deny it.

He wasn’t done.

“So I’m thinkin’ we’re in the zone where we actually go out and eat a meal and get to know each other better. Not wolfing down breakfast, you go your way and I go mine. Or I make you spaghetti because you’ve been behind a bar all night and haven’t eaten, then the minute you’re done, we fuck each other’s brains out. So, to end, if we’re not casual, it is my business.”

“I’m not feeling the love for not casual right about now, Zano,” I shared.

He lifted a hand, palm out my way, and shook his head.

“Sorry, my mistake,” he began and dropped his hand. “That came out like you had a choice. Which you don’t. Tomorrow, you’re in a nice dress. My pick is the one you wore to Club, unless you’ve got another one that makes my dick harder faster, which, babe, just sayin’, will be a feat. Then I’m takin’ you out to a nice dinner, and you’re gonna share with me all your hopes and dreams. But right now you’re gonna tell me what the fuck you’re into.”

Although one could not say I didn’t like that he liked my dress—and why—I still crossed my arms on my chest and declared, “We’re not going out on a date.”

“You wanna get laid tonight?” he asked, and I felt my brows shoot up.

“Are you using sex as a way to get me to go out with you?” I clipped.

Suddenly he threw his arms out in exasperation.

“Jesus!” he exploded. “Ally, usually a guy’s gotta take a girl out as a way to get sex.”

“I told you, I’m not like other girls.”

“Well, you’ve proved that statement correct a dozen fuckin’ times since it came out of your mouth.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“You over that guy?” he asked back instead of answering and my head twitched.

“What guy?”

Ren’s chin jerked back, and his heavy angry vibe that was weighing in the air became stifling.

“What guy?” he whispered.

Uh-oh.

He was referring to Carl, probably because I used Carl as an excuse to keep our relationship casual. And since he wished to discuss us going out of the casual, he would naturally bring up Carl.

Shit.

“I, uh, I’m still working through that,” I replied lamely.

“A second ago, you didn’t even remember he existed,” Ren fired back.

Damn it!

I threw out an arm and went on the defense. “I’m kind of not on my game, what with the late night grilling.”

“I had my mouth between your legs, you’d be focused,” he returned, and there it was.

I’d had many briefings about Asshole Speak, and that was proof Ren could equal even Luke.

“That’s not cool,” I whispered.

“But it’s true.”

It was true, damn it all to hell, so I decided not to reply.

“Was there even a guy?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered snippily. “His name is Carl and he’s currently undertaking FBI training in Virginia and likely won’t be stationed in Denver when they’re done with him. So, since I don’t intend to live anywhere but Denver, I had to make the decision to be done with him.”

Some of his anger slid out of the room and his voice was less terse (though not gentle by a long shot) when he pointed out, “Do you know that that’s the most personal thing you’ve shared with me since beer at Brother’s?”

“Fuck buddies don’t share their hopes and dreams, Zano. They fuck,” I educated him.

It was his turn to clamp his mouth shut.

He did it better than me, and this was because a muscle jumped in his jaw which I found, unfortunately at that moment, all kinds of hot.

Crap.

I let him have his moment and didn’t fill the silence.

He got over his moment and his voice was even less terse (but still not gentle) when he told me, “I’m pissed, and I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you out there, which means I’m pissed because I’m worried. But that doesn’t negate the fact that I like what we got and I want more.”

Oh God.

He wanted more.

And he was worried about me.

Fuck.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he quickly closed the short distance between us, wrapped a hand around the side of my neck and dipped his face close so I closed my mouth.

“You’re pissed too,” he told me something I knew, but this time his voice was not terse at all. It was gentle and sweet. “So don’t answer now. Not when we’re both pissed. Give it some time and think about it. And think about sharin’ with me whatever you’re up to. You got some mission with one of your posse, I might be able to help. It’s somethin’ you and Tucker gotta keep close to your vests, I get it. But think about sharing, honey. If I can help, I will.”

Okay, how did this happen? How was it that one minute we were having not very nice words and the next minute he was not only gentle and sweet, but also nice.

When someone was being nice, you couldn’t be not nice back. It was a rule.

Shit.

“Just laying down the law now, Zano. When we’re pissed at each other, you can’t switch to nice. I can’t do anything with nice. You know it, so that’s not fighting fair.”

His lips quirked. His hand at my neck slid up into the back of my hair and his other arm curved around me, pulling me close to his hard heat as he totally ignored me laying down the law, and replied, “You know what I like?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He kept going. “I like it when you act all badass, calling me Zano when I don’t have my hands and mouth on you or my dick inside you. But when I do, all I get is sweet breathy Rens.”

I lifted my hands to his chest and was pressing, at the same time ignoring my inner thighs quivering as I pointed out, “It’s also not fair to be sexy.”

He bent his neck, and with lips to mine, he murmured, “I don’t fight fair, baby. I fight to win.”

I made certain to make note of that.

He made certain I had no retort and did this by kissing me. Then he did it by keeping my mouth engaged as he picked me up like a groom carries his bride and walked me to my bedroom.

By the time we got there, I wasn’t thinking about making a retort.

All I was thinking about was Ren.

Two weeks later…

Ren was moving inside me and I was loving it when his lips at my ear whispered, “This feel casual to you?”

It so didn’t.

It felt beautiful.

Perfect.

My limbs tightened around him and I closed my eyes hard.

Then I turned my head, and, my lips at his ear, I whispered back, “I need more time.”

His body stilled, unfortunately on an outward glide, and my limbs again tensed around him.

Then he started stroking, sweet, slow, gentle, and replied, “I’ll give you that, baby.”

I slid a hand up his spine and into his thick, soft hair, thinking, thank God.

Three weeks later…

I was sucking back coffee as Ren strode into the kitchen wearing a suit.

I stopped, giving myself a moment to appreciate the view. I grinned at him, moved into him and leaned up to kiss his jaw.

I pulled back and mumbled, “Gotta go, babe. See you tonight.”

Before I could make a move to do that, his arm hooked around my waist and he pulled me into his side. His head turned, mine stayed tipped back, and he caught my eyes.

“Been keepin’ an eye on things, and Valenzuela’s lost interest in you,” he announced.

I knew this. Darius was also keeping an eye on things.

I’d had my phone call with Darius the morning after the night of Ren’s and my fight. He had already been made aware of this situation and assured me he was keeping an eye on things and running interference with Lee. Since neither of my brothers approached to tear into me, and Darius had reported Valenzuela was focusing on other things, I knew Darius was successful in these endeavors. So I moved on.

“I know,” I told Ren.

He nodded, then said, “Even so, I also know your piece hasn’t exited the chess board.”

This was true. Darius, Brody and I had another case.

I decided against speaking.

Ren held my eyes, then thankfully changed the subject.

“You workin’ Brother’s tonight?”

I shook my head.

“Good, then I can take you out to dinner.”

My heart squeezed, but luckily I had an excuse and it was not made up.

“I can’t. Girl’s Night In at Tod and Stevie’s. Jet’s wedding planning is heating up and things are getting out of hand. Her mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law are horning in, and Jet’s freaking. One word: bunting. You may not get that because you’re a dude. I’m a chick and I don’t even get it, but according to Tod, it’s a bride’s worst nightmare. Roxie’s also deep into the planning stages of her wedding, so Tod’s decreed there are a lot of decisions to make and tonight’s the night.”

To that, he immediately asked, “You workin’ tomorrow?”

I nodded.

He sighed.

Then he bent his neck and took my mouth in a kiss that was a whole lot better than the one I gave his jaw.

When he lifted his head, he murmured, “We’ll sort out another night.”

I again decided against speaking. Instead, I gave his arm a squeeze and threw another grin his way.

I broke free and executed a forced casual escape, calling, “Later!” as I did.

Ren didn’t reply.

One week later…

It was after a shift at Brother’s. I was in my Mustang with my phone in my hand.

I texted Ren with, On my way, then I tossed my cell on the seat beside me.

I was about to set my car purring, which would mean my radio would start blaring. This meant it was unfortunate timing because I could hear my phone ringing when, if it had happened two seconds later, I would not. Alternately, this could be considered fortunate timing, depending on how you looked at it, considering what would happen during that call.

Personally, I looked at it both ways. But mostly the second. What went down was way better on the phone than face to face.

Seriously.

See, I saw my screen said “Zano Calling” so I tagged my phone and put it to my ear.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey,” he replied, then didn’t delay with laying it out. “Tonight doesn’t work for me. Tomorrow, you can get away, we’re havin’ lunch.”

Here we go again.

Him pressing for more. Me finding an excuse not to give it to him.

“I’m working Fortnum’s tomorrow.”

“You can get away to go shoppin’ with Daisy, you can get away to have lunch with me.”

Shit. I needed to learn not to share. The more he knew, the more he could use.

And he used it.

Daisy, by the way, was another Rock Chick. She wasn’t hooked up with a Hot Bunch guy. She was married to Marcus Sloan, a colleague of Ren’s (as it were). That was to say legitimate at the same time dirty.

I also stayed out of Marcus’s business. This was because I liked him, regardless of the dirty part of what he did. And I liked him not only because he was a nice guy, but mostly because he loved Daisy to distraction.

Daisy, as it tended to be with the Rock Chicks, was a little nuts. She looked like Dolly Parton, talked like her, dressed like Dolly would if she was on speed, and Daisy’s heart was made of pure gold.

So I loved her, and that meant Marcus loving her and knocking himself out to give her a good life (after one that was really not so good) worked for me.

“Zano—” I started.

His voice was gentle and sweet when he stated, “We have to talk, baby.”

“About what?” I asked, but I knew, and this was beginning to get hard.

I was real. I said it like it was. I wasn’t into duplicity and avoidance (okay, maybe a little into duplicity, if the situation warranted it). But definitely not with someone who meant something to me. And regardless of the boundaries I was working to keep around our relationship, Ren meant something to me.

It took a moment to realize he didn’t answer.

“Zano?” I called.

“You know about what,” he stated, and as I mentioned, I did.

He said nothing.

I didn’t either.

Then he came to a decision.

No, that wasn’t strictly true.

It was then he came to a decision because I’d forced his hand.

“Don’t like this shit, would never do it, but you give me no choice, Ally,” he said and my heart lurched.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, thankful my voice sounded strong rather than pained, which was what my insides felt like.

“Ending things with a woman on the phone.”

Oh God.

Shit.

Fuck!

“Ren—” I whispered.

“You’re not willing to go there with me. You’ve made it clear, baby,” he said, still gentle and sweet. “Why you need that, I don’t know. I just know you do. I also know what I want for the future, and that includes wife and kids. So as much as I like what we got, it’s important you know where I’m at. If you’re not into exploring that kind of future with me, Ally, we gotta cut each other loose.”

I had to give it to him, he sounded like he didn’t like saying those words, and it was very clear he was trying to handle me with care. And I appreciated that.

Still, it hurt.

But he was right. We weren’t going there.

So we had to cut each other loose.

“I… I have…” I stammered, shook myself mentally and physically and got my shit together. “I’m not ready for that Ren.”

“Right,” he whispered, and didn’t hide his disappointment.

I closed my eyes tight and felt my throat constrict.

“Be safe,” he said quietly. “And be happy, baby.”

Oh God.

Shit.

Fuck!

“You too, Ren,” I forced out through my tight throat.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Bye, Ally.”

“Bye, Ren.”

He disconnected.

I let my hand drop and stared at my steering wheel.

It took a while, a very long while, before I got myself together enough to turn the ignition and drive myself home.

That night and the nights after, I didn’t sleep in my bed. I slept on my couch.

And I did this because the sheets smelled of Ren and I didn’t have it in me to endure the memory of what we had.

But I also didn’t have it in me to strip them and wash him away.